Red Mandarin Dress

original mandarin dress wearer was, at the time, only a boy.”
    “That doesn’t make sense.”
    “That’s another contradiction, to be sure, but again in these psychological studies, there’s something called Oedipus complex.”
    “Oedipus complex?” Yu repeated.
    “A son’s subconscious sexual desire for his mother.”
    “What? That’s supposed to help us find a boy who grew into a middle-aged man who is capable of committing three murder cases in three weeks?” Yu said without trying to conceal the satire in his tone. “That’s totally beyond me.”
    Yu had never heard of the so-called Oedipus complex. Absurd as it might sound, however, it was not unlike the chief inspector, who was known for his unorthodox ways.
    “No, I don’t think it’s too likely, either,” Chen said in an unperturbed way, “but according to the theory, he’s probably a middle-aged man with a traumatic experience in his childhood, possibly during the Cultural Revolution. And he must have had conflicting feelings toward the woman who wore the original mandarin dress.”
    “That’s a novel theory indeed,” Yu exclaimed. “So after waiting twenty years, his passion for his mother suddenly drove him into a frenzied killing streak.”
    “It’s not my theory, Yu,” Chen said. “Still, it explains some of the contradictions.”
    Yu regretted his satirical comment to his boss. After all, Chen had been thinking hard about the case, checking through his books. Still, his approach appeared to be too psychological, too academic.
    “Oh, some people are talking about your vacation during the investigation,” Yu said, changing the subject.
    “Let them complain. Just tell them I’m too busy with my paper.”
    “But even Old Hunter says that you could put your paper aside for a short while.”
    “That’s exactly what I am going to do, but we don’t have to tell the others.”
    A young couple came over. After looking around for several minutes, they chose to sit on the bench, beside the two cops. This wasn’t unusual on the Bund. While there were more and more places for young people in the city, the Bund was still the number-one spot. There were all the colorful vessels sailing in the background and the romantic memories of the city still vibrant in the impressive neocolonial buildings. Besides, it was free. So lovers would take any available seat on the Bund. That made it impossible, however, for Chen and Yu to continue their discussion of the murders.
    “So are you going to push ahead with your theory?” Yu said, rising.
    “It’s just a theory in books,” Chen said. “In fact, your focus on the possible triggering factor in Jasmine’s murder may be the right direction. But we may have to move back further in history.”
    Yu didn’t know how much further they could move back. Still, there was no telling what surprises his boss would come up with.

FIFTEEN
    ON TUESDAY MORNING , CHEN woke up still exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept at all. There was also the suggestion of a nagging headache. He started rubbing his temples.
    He had spent the weekend working on the red mandarin dress case, pushing along several fronts.
    He’d phoned a friend in the United States, asking for her help with a background checkup of Weng. With her connections, she soon obtained the required information. What Weng had told Yu was basically true. He had been a special buyer for an American company. The divorce proceedings with his wife had hit no snag and should be finalized in a month or two. In fact, his wife was looking forward to it, as she had a new boyfriend.
    He’d contacted Xiong, the city government cadre who had spoken to Tian’s factory about his actions during the Cultural Revolution. Xiong said that he’d done so because of an anonymous letter he’d received about Tian’s atrocities. According to Xiong, he didn’t try to put any pressure on the factory. Once somebody in Xiong’s position had spoken, however, it was a matter of course that other people would do everything possible to comply. That spelled the doom for Tian. An anonymous letter was smart, though not necessarily suspicious, as it allowed the author to “kill with somebody else’s knife.” Xiong had no idea at all who had written the letter.
    Chen also researched the mandarin-dress-related mass-criticism during the early part of the Cultural Revolution. Like Peiqin, he recalled the image of Wang Guangmei being mass-criticized and humiliated in a mandarin